Broken Promises
by AnicomicQueen
Summary: RHATO 25 Canon Divergence: Jason was not as mentally and emotionally prepared to deal with the fall out of shooting Penguin as he thought he was. He's lost his teammates to who knows where, and his former mentor did not hold back in punishing him for his mistake. (This will heavily feature Roy Harper, but it's more Batfam than RHATO which is why it is here and not there.)
1. Ch1: Rescue

A/N: Hello! Thanks for stopping by! This was spurned immediately after reading RHATO #25. I got angsty feels that needed to get out and so I'll give them to Jason. It'll probably eventually become hurt/comfort fluff but who knows, I tend to stray. This is a reposting from AO3. Additional Author's Notes can be found over there, but it's really just me rambling and apologizing. Lol. Anywho, hope you enjoy!

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Jason felt himself being dragged. He didn't remember losing consciousness. Probably had a concussion if he'd been hit that hard though.

He heard a somebody land a few feet away. There was whistling sound, followed by a pop and a hiss, and the dragging stopped. Jason flinched, thinking he was about to be hit again. But instead, the smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he was dropped to the ground.

He cracked his eyes open out of curiosity. But there was nothing to see. Red filled his vision, irritating his uncovered eyes, so he closed them against the slight stinging sensation, suppressing a groan. He regretted not wearing the domino under the helmet for the first time in months. See, when he'd first made the upgrade to this hood, he had continued to wear one. But after a few weeks of hard hits with no signs of structural weakness, he'd decided he could forgo the additional mask. Tim had commented that it was kinda weird to wear a mask under a mask. Plus he had never been a fan of the spirit gum anyway. It had always irritated his skin.

Guess he should have known better than to get too reliant on the hood though, if tonight was anything to go by. His helmet had splintered with _one_ kick from Batman. He knew the man was gonna be mad, but he had not expected him to come at him with enough force to shatter his fucking helmet.

There was a reason Jason wore a helmet instead of just a mask. He was a goddamn open book. He knew it. Couldn't hold his emotions back for the life of him, as much as he tried. It had been a problem since he'd been a kid. He gets emotionally attached to cases and was a slave to those emotions on an hourly basis. Not a super great trait to have in the crime fighting business. Worse when you're fighting your father because you acted on your emotions and ended up doing something...not great.

Jason had tried to start the fight off snarky and confident as a sort of defense mechanism. He didn't actually want to fight his old mentor these days. He still knew it'd been coming as soon as he pulled the trigger, and he'd tried to be ready. He'd known Batman was gonna come after him if he found out-which, of course he did. Jason hadn't missed that news chopper at the scene. He'd thought knowing the fallout would be bad was enough, but knowing hadn't helped him one bit.

He had not been ready.

His mask had shattered upon impact and Jason knew Batman would be able to see the anger and anxiety he'd been concealing. Bruce had lashed out far more violently than Jason had been expecting. And that had scared him as much as it had hurt. His anxiety had turned to fear. It hadn't been a fear of the Batman. It had been a fear rooted in the fact that this was _Bruce_ under there somewhere. _Bruce_ had been hitting him harder than he hit most criminals. Harder than he'd _ever_ seen him hit the Joker. Jason had pointed this out in an attempt to regain some control of his emotions, to create a barrier, but it had only served to anger the man further.

A part of him had known it would. And it had earned him a very strong blow to his exposed face and more enraged shouts. At this point Jason had stopped fighting. He had been all kinds of confused and hurt and angry and terrified and heartbroken. He had been resigned to his fate. He had deserved this.

The man whom Jason considered a father had broken him. And then to make matters worse he had lost his best friends and probably his only allies.

Jason heard heavy footsteps coming toward where he lay. He didn't bother opening his eyes. He resigned himself to a round...three? Round four? He wasn't sure. And honestly, he didn't want to think about it.

The footsteps stopped next to him. He heard the person kneel and he winced in response, ready for a punch or a backhand or being harshly dragged up by his collar again. Then an arm slipped under his left arm and behind his back and Jason was being pulled up into a standing position.

A hand pressed on the center of his chest, steadying him.

"I got you buddy."

Jason's breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a couple beats.

"Roy?" His voice was soft and riddled with anxious confusion.

He cracked his eyes open, having to confirm what he thought he'd heard to be true, before closing them again. His face muscles contorted and his eyes burned again. He swallowed, trying to make the frog trapped in his throat go away.

"Yeah, Jaybird. It's Roy."

"Roy," he said the name again. It was only one word, but it was heavy with emotion. Full of need. It was a cry for help. Please, get him out of here.

"I know, buddy. I know."

He became lightheaded as his consciousness decided now was an okay time to abandon him once more. He had to let Roy know. He was going down. "I…" he breathed out as his knees buckled.

"Woah! Okay." The hand left his chest. And the last thing he would remember was the dizzying sensation of being swept quite literally off his feet and Roy assuring him, "It's okay. I've got you. We're getting out of here."


	2. Ch2: Injustice

Dick pulled up into the circular drive of Wayne Manor and parked his bike right in front of the stairs leading up to the front door. He wouldn't be staying long and he was afraid if he parked in the garage, he'd do something he would regret. Some of those cars were vintage. He pulled his helmet off and just sat there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the visor.

 _How had it come to this?_

He'd been on patrol as usual. An easy day in Blüdhaven, convince a gang of teens to stop trying to rob the local bank and stay in school, help a drunk lady get into a cab instead of behind the wheel of her bug, check on the casino. He'd been on his way to the docks for a quick tour when he'd gotten a call from Batgirl over the comms.

" _Dick."_

" _Hey beautiful, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"_ He'd joked as usual. They were comfortable in their relationship non-relationship. It was a continuous dance with them. They'd work a bust together, end up at one of their apartments, and claim _this_ was it. This was the time it would work. They would go in completely committed. And inevitably something would come up. They'd go about their business, tracking down leads, busting criminals, and they'd grow apart until a few months later when they would try again.

God. He wanted so much for it to work between them.

It was kind of funny to think that he'd despised the redhead at first. But he'd been immature, a preteen when Batgirl first appeared, and he'd been jealous that she'd been trying to impose herself on his and Batman's gig. It had been what _he_ shared with Bruce. And she had been an invader.

When he'd turned thirteen however, things had changed. Barbara had become a regular part of their quest. They'd become friends after constant exposure both in and out of costume, and over time the next few years that friendship had morphed into something deeper. Unlike his Teen Titan friends, Barbara was...Barbara. They'd fought together. They'd grown together. They'd shared their first kiss together. She'd become his most important friend.

He had still been young though. It hadn't been until Dick was nineteen that he'd realized the extent to which he loved Barbara. When he'd learned that he loved her in the way that meant forever. But they had fallen apart over the years since he'd stopped being Robin and taken a new monicker. And she'd seemed happy and he'd had no right to try to come back after so long and intrude on her new life after leaving. So he'd kept his distance, sticking with his Titans. A decision he would later regret when Barbara had been paralyzed, and Jason had died. Because then, Dick had despaired. Because he should have been there. He'd cursed and blamed himself regarding both incidents. He'd regretted not being there for them. He'd regretted not coming home. He'd been so stupid to stay away because of whatever grudge his seventeen and eighteen year old self had harbored against Bruce. Robin had been years ago for him at that point and he'd no longer resented his mentor.

It was something he still thought about on occasion, even though Bab's had had her surgery and Jason had been back for a while now. He should have _been_ there...

" _Dick. I said, you need to come back to Gotham. NOW."_ The urgency in her voice had flipped a switch for him.

" _What happened?"_ His stomach had coiled into tight knots, dreading her response.

She'd explained very briefly that Jason had shot Penguin and it had been broadcast live, that is was all over Chirper and Blastfeed for their area. She'd sent him an encrypted file to his phone. It had turned out to be highlights from the video feed of Batman's cowl from just minutes before.

Dick had watched the feed. His heart had momentarily stopped beating and his stomach had dropped down to his pelvis as he'd watched Bruce attack Jason over and over. He'd listened to him shout and scream at his brother. Jason had gotten in a few snarky comments, but overall it had been less of a fight and more of a beating. There had been a moment when the feed flashed a dark blue and red and then all he'd been able to see was dust and the Gotham night sky through a hole in concrete. Then it had cut out, Barbara's doing most likely, and then cut right back in to Jason, flying into a kick, but it hadn't been a well thought out kick. It had looked desperate and messy. The look on Jason's face had suggested only anguish. Something had to have happened during the few minutes of visual interruption. It had looked like someone had died. At the end, all it had taken was one punch from Bruce and Jason was out cold. The last visuals had been of red smoke swarming the rooftop and Bruce looking down at an arrow hitting his gauntlet before the feed went out.

Dick had sped home immediately after watching and changed into civvies before grabbing the keys to his other bike and tearing out of Blüdhaven. He'd worked as a cop in the area for a while, he knew where the patrol cars liked to hide. He'd deftly avoided those areas, but even if they had seen him, they wouldn't have followed. It had been too close to Gotham city limits.

Gotham had been even easier to maneouver. He'd grown up patrolling her streets.

The whole drive had been a blur for him. He hadn't been able to get out of his own head. The look on Jason's face immediately after Bruce had shattered the Red Hood helmet...it had looked like Bruce had shattered that boy's goddamn heart. It had been a look of surprise mixed with fear and sadness and regret and resignation. The way Jason's eyes shone had spoken volumes of his inner turmoil. It had made Dick's eyes water as he'd empathised with his brother.

Even now, he couldn't get the look out of his head. He couldn't believe that Bruce had done this. It was wrong. He didn't care about Jason shooting the Penguin. There had to have been a reason, and it was _their fault_ for not noticing something was wrong.

Dick finally climbed off his bike and decided to leave his helmet. If he brought it he was going to throw it. That could only result in something priceless breaking and Alfred cleaning it up. And as much as part of him didn't care about breaking a useless thing, it wouldn't be fair to Alfred. He wasn't the one Dick had a problem with right now. So he left the helmet.

Dick skipped the stairs up to the door and threw the door open, before slamming it behind him.

Alfred came around the corner from the study and jumped in alarm.

"Master Dick!" Alfred was either surprised by his presence or surprised by his lack of tact in slamming the door. Dick didn't take the time to decipher which was right.

"Where is he?" It was a growl at best and a snarl at worst. He didn't actually need a response. He _knew_ where the man was. Where he _always_ was. He slipped past Alfred and stormed into the study, through the already open passage, and down the stairs.

He could see the shadow that was Bruce standing near the computer, cowl pulled back. He could have believed the man was frozen until he turned when Dick marched closer.

"How could you?" Dick shouted. "You fucking bastard!" He pulled back and threw a punch straight across Bruce's jaw before grabbing the front of the suit and pulling the man down so they were face to face. "How _could_ you?" He whispered harshly, still not wanting to believe the way this man had acted less than an hour ago. He made it sound like Bruce had betrayed him instead of Jason.

Bruce didn't push him away and he didn't say anything either. He just grabbed his jaw and cracked it back a forth a few times.

Dick made a disgusted _tch._ He let go of the suit and walked away so he wouldn't hit the man a second time. "That was despicable, Bruce."

"He broke his promi-"

"I don't care _what_ Jason did!" Dick snapped, turning back to face the man. "It doesn't matter!"

"He broke the law."

"So what?! We break the law _every day_! You're a goddamn hypocrite, Bruce!"

"He shot the Penguin, _Dick_ ," Bruce said through gritted teeth.

"And he's not dead, Bruce! It's all over the news. ' _Oswald Cobblepot in Critical Condition.'_ Jason fucking missed. Too bad because Penguin is _such a stand up guy_ ," he said sarcastically, snapping his fingers. "He's never once done something to deserve it or anything. Just hurt and killed hundreds over the years and gotten away with it because he's got money."

Dick took a deep breath to calm himself. Yelling and sarcasm weren't going to do anything for him in this situation. He closed his eyes, pushing the fire down.

"Bruce…" He started, choosing his words carefully. "Why is this different from when...from when I killed the Joker?" He paused. "Or do you just pretend that never happened? Because it's something _I_ can never forget."

"That was different, Dick," Bruce protested. "We resuscitated him."

"It's _not_ different, Bruce."

"The Joker played on your emotions," the man tried to reason. "You thought he'd killed Robin."

Dick shook his head. "You just don't get it, Bruce. Yes, he played my emotions. But I was the one who acted on them. I thought he'd killed Timmy. And then...then everything just went white when the Joker mentioned killing Jason. I had been so controlled by my emotions in that moment that I killed Joker with my bare hands." He lifted his hands and clenched them into fists to accentuate his words.

The fists shook, and he couldn't stop them. Remembering that night was difficult because it had been terrifying to know that he was able to kill a man with these hands that usually helped people. He unclenched the fists and slowly brought his hands back down, staring at them.

"You brought him back, but it doesn't change the fact that I killed him. And it doesn't change the fact that I felt happy that he was dead." Dick paused and then stared at Bruce imploringly. "You don't think Jason was upset about something? That he didn't at least have a reason for going after Penguin? Did you even _try_ to talk to him? Did you even think to give him the benefit of the doubt?"

Bruce looked away from him, and Dick sighed.

"Look at yourself, Bruce," he said. "You need to figure your shit out. Last week you beat Mr. Freeze to a blue and bloody pulp even after he'd stopped fighting and confessed and given you the information you needed to take him down. Now tonight, you were angry enough to attack someone you promised to protect? Jason may not be considered a child by the law anymore, but he's still _your_ child. And that child has been traumatized enough in his nineteen years of life. Having you, someone he relied on, come at him the way you did for him making a mistake? Come at him and not ask for his side of the story?" Dick shook his head solemnly. "I can still see the look on his face...You _broke_ him, Bruce." Dick let that sink in and started walking back up to the manor. "You need to go back and rewatch that footage. And I need to go find my brother." Dick stopped for a moment on the stairs before adding, "And don't even think about coming after him. You've done enough." He then left Bruce standing in the empty cave, with nobody but the bats for company.

He walked back out the study and headed toward the entrance hall. Alfred was standing in the foyer.

"Master Dick?" Alfred asked when the young man passed back by him.

Dick flashed him a sad smile. "I'm heading out now, Alfred. I'll let you know when I find Jason." He opened the front door and paused. "Listen. I know Bruce is hurting because of the whole Selina thing. I'm not stupid. But he needs to take a step back to clear his head. He needs to _talk_ to someone. Someone who is willing to help him. Someone who isn't...me." He shut the door behind him and checked his phone. It had buzzed a few times since he'd left Blüdhaven, but he'd been a little busy.

Three texts.

One was from Cass. ' _Saw video. Duke with me at Steph's. Find Jason. Worried.'_

He was glad to hear Cass had taken Duke with her. ' _I will,'_ he messaged back.

Another from Tim. ' _Is Jason okay? He's not answering his phone.'_

Dick messaged back. ' _I don't know yet. I need to find him first. I've got an idea of where he might be, but if you hear anything, lemme know. I'll do the same.'_

There was also a message from Damian. ' _I watched the news and Brown sent me a message. I'm staying with the Kents for a while. Keep me updated on the status of Todd. If I can be of use, don't hesitate to call.'_

Dick smiled. Tim and Damian were good brothers. So much had changed over the past few years. ' _I was gonna tell you to stay at the Tower, but the Kents is good too. I'll let you know when I find Jason.'_

There was a missed call from Donna and a voicemail. That was...odd. He swiped to check it. " _Hey, Dick. It's Donna. I just dropped Jason and Roy off at his place in New York. I thought you would want to know. Sorry I couldn't stay with them. Please let me know when you get this. And when you find out if Jason is okay or not. I want to help in any way I can. Hope to hear back soon."_

He sent her a quick text as well. ' _Got your message. Thank you. I understand and I'll keep you posted.'_

He put the device back in his pocket, put his helmet on, and sped off.


	3. Ch3: Lost at Sea

Something cold, wet, and a little bit scratchy brushed along the side of Jason's face, swiping gently from his temple down to just under his right eye. The sensation brought him back to the land of the living. His eyes fluttered open and the wet thing floated away. He found himself looking at a ceiling fan circling overhead. His eyebrows knit together. He didn't have a ceiling fan….

Where the hell-oh right. _Roy._ He vaguely remembered the archer showing up before he lost consciousness. He started to sit up until he realized everything hurt. His shoulder, his knee, his chest, his head. He groaned and gave up, letting his body sink back into the cushions again.

Roy was kneeling down next to him, holding a wet rag in one hand and balancing a bowl of cloudy water on his knee with the other. "Well welcome back," he greeted Jason with a lopsided smile. "How you feelin'?"

Jason brought a hand up to his head. "Headache."

"Yeah, I bet." It sounded almost like a laugh. "You're helmet was trashed, man." Roy stood up, tossed the rag at a hamper, and walked to the kitchen to pour the bowl of saline solution out. "You hungry at all, Jaybird? I'm no you, but I can cook well enough to survive. I've got eggs and pasta."

"No thanks," Jason mumbled. "Not hungry."

Roy walked back over to the couch and leaned over the back, resting on his arms. He breathed in deeply as he regarded Jason. Then he scrunched up his nose. It smelled like old sweat and blood and something else that was entirely Gothamesque. Soot? Or maybe burnt rubber? It wasn't a great smell. "Hmm…" He pushed himself of the sofa and started walking around to the front. "You should probably take a shower." Jason didn't respond, so Roy bent down and put a hand on the younger man's arm. "You with me, Jay?" Jason jumped with the hand and he looked up at him with a dazed sort if look. "You okay, bud?" Roy asked, his voice full of concern.

Jason shook his head quickly, trying to shake off the foggy feeling that was starting to consume him. "Sorry. I'm okay. What'd you say?"

Roy grimaced and said, "No need to apologize, Jay. And...it's okay if you're not okay." He gave Jason's arm a squeeze before standing up. "I just said you should probably take a shower. Then I can get you all patched up and in a bed. Sound like a plan?" Roy extended his hands to help Jason up.

"I...sure." Jason took the offered help and let Roy pull him up off the couch. As soon as he was standing, Roy let go. Jason sighed and immediately started listing off to the side.

Roy quickly hooked a hand under one of Jason's arms, steadying him. "Hey, man. You gonna be alright?" Roy studied the way he seemed to sway. "I can draw up a bath instead?"

Jason shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm okay. Just...stood up too fast I think. I'm fine."

"If you're sure..." Roy let go but stayed close while he pointed out the bathroom. "The water might take a bit to warm up again. If you turn it on I can go get you some clothes and a towel." Jason nodded and walked off, while Roy noted he was favoring his left ankle. He then wandered into the bedroom and pulled out a pair of boxers, some old sweats, a Coca-Cola t-shirt, and a towel. It all came from a pile of clean laundry he'd said he was gonna fold last week.

Roy went back and rapped on the bathroom door. "Jay? Can I come in?" The door opened a second later, Jason standing in the doorway. "Here's a towel, and some clothes." He handed the bundle of items over. "I've got a shirt if you want it," he said holding it up as evidence, "but you can decide if you want it after we wrap your chest. Also make sure you check yourself over for other injuries so we can get everything taken care of. Even if it's something small like a sprained ankle. I don't want to go down the list to take inventory, but I will."

"Yeah, okay." Jason put the items on the counter.

Roy gave him a nod of approval. "Okay. Well, give a shout if you need anything." Roy closed the door. It was thrown open a second later however and Roy poked his head back in. "Also please don't fall." He closed the door again and left Jason to his own devices.

Jason turned around back towards the mirror. He waited, listening to the still cool water spray against the shower curtain and tub. He just stood there in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection. He focus honed in on his chest. At the gaping hole in his armour. The red bat was gone and all that was left now was a slather of red bruises, changing over to purple. He touched the tender area with shaking hands and swallowed down the tightness that was growing in his throat.

Steam started creeping down from the top of the mirror, obscuring his reflection. He blinked a few times and shook his head, trying to get away from his thoughts. Then he grabbed the bottom hem of his armour and tugged it up over his head. He stared at the material in his hands and felt a dagger twist painfully into his heart. He grew hot with anger. How could Bruce take his own symbol from him?! He crumpled the armour into a ball and raised the offending material, intending to throw it. But his own voice invaded his thoughts. _I don't know what you were expecting. You broke your promise. You deserved this._ The anger dissipated, replaced by something else that made his stomach twist and his chest ache. Jason let his uninjured arm drop back down and let the shirt fall from his hand.

0000000000000000

Roy grabbed the first aid kit out of his room and set it down on the kitchen counter before pulling out a pitcher of water and pouring himself a glass. He chugged it and set the glass in the sink before gripping the edge of the counter and closing his eyes. He needed to think.

It had been less than twelve hours since he'd left Star City. He'd been helping Ollie, Dinah, and Emi with a case over the past week. They'd found Ollie's missing friend, Emiko took on the name Red Arrow, and Dinah was gonna be moving in with Ollie soon. Mission accomplished, he'd said his goodbyes and had been looking forward to coming home to his place in Manhattan. Ready for a nice long weekend of relaxing.

He'd gone home, tossed his suit in the hamper, grabbed a Coke and kicked his feet up to watch the ball game. Star City Rockets versus the Central City Diamonds. The game had gone into an extra two innings, but the Rockets pulled it out in the end, winning 3-2. He'd never liked listening to the post-game interviews so he'd thought he'd change the channel to see what was going on in the world. Maybe channel 4? Their evening news team had a new weatherman who was super awkward. His name was Michael Thomas. He was young and he wasn't that bad looking a guy, but Roy didn't really care about any of that. He just liked him because he couldn't help but laugh at the poor kid in his oversized, untailored jackets and his way too wide ties, and his glasses that made him look forty. It made him look like a kid playing dress up. The guy really needed to stick to a skinny tie and maybe invest in some contacts or some of those BCGs hipsters were wearing these days. And maybe he could have better jokes.

He input '004' on his remote. When the receiver had changed over to the right channel, the breaking news banner hadn't fazed Roy in the least. It seemed like everything was breaking news these days. He tilted his head back to drink the last of his beverage.

" _-GCPD on a high-speed chase through downtown Gotham after notorious kingpin Oswald Cobblepot, also known as the Penguin, was gunned down by the vigilante known as Red Hood-"_

Roy had damn near drowned to death choking on the soda. Yeah, okay, that had been breaking news. Shit.

They showed the replay of Jason shooting Penguin. They played it on a loop with the news anchor voicing over. Roy had a 4K TV so he saw it in gruesome detail. The more they played it, the more he saw. Penguin saying something to Jason. Jason's hand shaking. The blood spray. Oswald Cobblepot falling to the ground. He'd seen what nobody else would see because nobody else would think to look.

Jason had missed.

Point blank range and he'd missed. Jason had pulled back at the last second. It wasn't going to be fatal. Roy was about ninety percent sure of it, so he'd grabbed his costume out of the hamper and quickly changed over. He heard the news lady report that Penguin was still hanging on to life, getting rid of any lingering doubt. If Jason had wanted someone dead, they would be that. _Dead._

Roy had called Donna immediately, telling her to bring the Titans jet because he needed to get to Gotham ten minutes ago. And she hadn't asked questions. She'd seen the news as well. He assumed everyone had seen it. He also assumed that they would be the only ones willing to help.

They'd gotten within range just in time to see a figure, which _had_ to have been Jason, get pushed out of a partially invisible building onto a roof. The building had popped out of existence and even from a distance he'd been able tell by Jason's body language that he was devastated. Like someone had died.

As they'd drawn nearer they saw Jason throw a kick. It had been a poorly executed kick if he'd ever seen one. Jason had looked like a trapped animal. And a moment later Batman had knocked him out with a single blow before walking over and ripping the red bat off Jason's chest. Roy had told Donna to stop near the roof and he jumped out, firing one of his smoke screen arrows, quickly followed by a taser arrow.

As soon as they'd gotten Jason, they'd gotten the hell out of dodge. She'd dropped them off near his place, but she couldn't stay. She was still on probation as mandated by the League. She'd taken a risk agreeing to help him. He owed her big time.

Roy startled when Lady Gaga started singing "Bad Romance" from his pocket. It was a personalized ringtone, set by the caller without Roy's knowledge. His heart settled back down as he fumbled for his phone before answering. He barely got a chance to say a greeting before the caller was shouting his ear off, asking a slew of questions.

"Jeez! Slow down, Dick. Yes. He's here. He's in the shower. And I don't care. Wait! Actual-" He pulled the phone away from his ear. "Mother fu-You hung up on me? Prick." He dropped the phone on the counter and looked at the clock. It'd been a good fifteen to twenty minutes since he'd left Jason in there….

He strode up to the door and knocked. "Jaybird? You alright in there?" God. He felt like an overbearing mother.

Until he didn't get a response.

"Jay? You okay?"

He listened for a tick before deciding he was just gonna go in.

Steam billowed straight into his face and invaded his lungs as soon as he pushed the door open. He coughed, trying to wave the steam away form his nose and mouth. "Jason?" He pulled the shower curtain open. Jason was just standing there, staring into nothingness, and his skin was red from the too hot water. "Jeezus, Jay! Okay. That's enough shower." Roy turned the water off, aggressively popping the knob back into place. "Unbelievable," Roy muttered to himself. "Here." He grabbed a towel off the rack with one hand and grabbed Jason's wrist with the other, shoving the material into his hand. "No more autonomy for you, buddy. At least, not right now." He grabbed the younger man's chin and forced him to make eye contact. "Hey. Look at me." He snapped his fingers in front of the younger man's face and waited for _actual_ eye contact, some semblance of alertness. He sighed and took a step back. "Okay. Listen up. You're gonna dry off. Then you're gonna get those boxers and sweats on and come let me patch you up. I'm assuming you didn't do an inventory so we're doing it by the numbers. Also, I feel like you should know Dick is on his way here." Jason became more alert in an instant. The look in his eyes was almost fearful, like he was considering running. "Easy. He's not coming to take you away. He's worried and wants to make sure you're okay. Understand?" Jason nodded slowly, but he was still confused. "Good. I'll be by the couch."

Roy shut the door and his phone started singing again from where he'd left it in the kitchen.

He dashed over and swiped it from the counter, hitting the green circle. "Hey." He listened and answered, "Seventh floor. Second door on the left. It's open so just come in." He hung up and placed the phone back on the counter. Then, heaving a heavy sigh, he ran his hands through his hair, trying to soothe an anxious feeling in his gut.


	4. Ch4: Simple Questions

Dick skipped stairs two at a time all the way up to the seventh floor, practically swinging himself around the banister in his rush. He skidded in front of the second door on the right and knocked brusquely.

"It's open," Roy called from inside. He sounded slightly exasperated. Probably because he'd told Dick to just _come in_ like five minutes ago...

Dick took a pause, and breathed, trying to calm his nerves. He wasn't sure what to be prepared for and his adrenaline had spiked as he'd crossed into Manhattan, so he was a bit of a mess right now.

He twisted the knob and entered. Off to the side, there was a pile of what had to be Roy's shoes judging from the size and style. Without bothering to untie the laces, he stepped on the heels of his Sperry sneakers and slipped them off before kicking them onto the pile.

Over by the couch, Roy helped Jason sit down, slowly lowering him down to the cushions.

Dick strode over to assist as well but froze when his breath caught upon seeing the myriad of purple and red contusions that covered his brother's torso.

His nostrils the second time that night, anger welled up inside of him. His eyes then travelled up to the black eye and scratches, aggravating him further. A growl started bubbling in his throat and he saw red.

He flashed back to the video feed. Batman's kick shattering the helmet. Angry fists coming back for seconds and thirds. The upper cut that had finished it...

Maybe he should've hit Bruce a little harder.

He snapped back when a strong hand grabbed his arm. Roy was aggressively dragging him toward the kitchen.

"Dick. I know it's hard to look at, but you need to focus," Roy said, keeping his voice low so Jason wouldn't be able to hear. Not that he was even paying attention. "As much as I _wish_ it would, getting pissed off isn't gonna do him any good. Now pull yourself together. You either have to help or you have to leave," Roy said, basically telling Dick that _he_ was in charge here.

That was a pretty sobering slap in the face coming from a friend who normally _let charge_ take him.

Dick nodded. "Right. You're right. I'm sorry. Let me help." He _needed_ to help.

Roy patted him on the shoulder with an approving smile. "Just a minute."

He wandered off to grab a plastic water bottle from the fridge and a small bottle of Tylenol PM from the cupboard. He gave the Tylenol a quick rattle to make sure it wasn't empty. They probably had enough for the next few days. It didn't matter though. He'd have to go to the store soon anyway. He could always pick more up.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go fix him up. Shall we?"

They went back over and Dick sat down next to his brother while Roy popped the Tylenol open and handed Jason two capsules.

"Hey. How you doin', Jay?" Dick asked, trying to keep all the emotion he felt out of his voice. He desperately wanted to express his worry. Wanted to apologize. Wanted to hug his little brother. But he didn't want to come off too strong and set the teen off. So he kept his hands to himself.

Jason avoided making eye contact, instead choosing to first focus on throwing the pills in his mouth and wash them down with the water before handing the bottle back to Roy. His brother shrugged and responded flatly, "Been worse."

Okay. Dick should have been ready for that one. Jason used it a lot. Normally against Bruce in an attempt to get the overbearing man to back off, as well as subtly remind him that Jason had died. It had never been incredibly successful in warding off their fussing, much to Jason's dismay. And this one was even less effective because it lacked the bitingly defensive tone Dick had grown accustomed to.

Dick moved to place his hand on Jason's shoulder, but he hesitated and pulled it back before just standing up instead. "Well, let's get you patched up still. You're tough, but you're only human, Jason."

Roy hummed in agreement and then he started their check by flashing a light in Jason's eyes.

As they moved down the unwritten list, Roy asked Jason simple questions and gave simple instructions that didn't require lengthy responses.

Follow the tip of my finger. Do you feel dizzy? Nausea? How bad is the headache? Can you make a fist? Push up on my hand. On a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt if I press here? Any difficulty breathing?

The procedure continued on and he logged away the information as he received it.

After all questions were asked and answered, and injuries were inspected through careful joint manipulation and gentle prodding, he felt like they had a pretty good idea of everything that needed attention. He stood up, grabbed a roll of bandages, and started on Jason's shoulder.

Next to him, Dick was just standing there, staring at Jason's battered chest again.

Roy decided he would take care of that particular injury as well. He already had a broken Jason. He didn't need a broken Dick as well.

He snapped his fingers to get Dick's attention and pointed at Jason's leg. "Focus, Dick. Take care of his knee."

That and the ankle were the least outwardly menacing of the injuries. All the damage was done to the ligaments, so it was mostly swelling and limited mobility. Dick could handle that.

Even if he was off his game.

Roy wasn't stupid. He knew this was extremely personal for the younger man.

His brother was hurt.

His father was the one who did it.

That was a lot to take in and he could see it on Dick's face. He'd known him since they were eleven and nine and a half. They'd still had half of their baby teeth.

They'd played together at charity events. They'd trained together back when Oliver and Bruce had gotten along.

They'd been on the Teen Titans together. And then the Titans. Twice.

That was more than enough time to pick up on someone's hidden emotions.

Not that Dick was actually hiding anything. Much like Jason, and really the rest of the Bat kids, Dick wasn't _good_ at hiding his all thought they were good at it. But that's because Batman is emotionally imbecilic and hiding emotions from him was cake. For the normal people outside of their safe little bat circle, them trying to hide what they felt made it that much more apparent.

As if on a timer, he saw Dick glance back up at Jason's chest again and he rolled his eyes.

So easy to read.

He refocused and finished wrapping Jay's shoulder before securing the end. . He then moved to check Dick's handiwork and make sure he wasn't wrapping the knee too tight. He used the opportunity to really look at Dick's face.

Dick kept biting his lip and his eyebrows were knit together, already making him look extremely troubled. But it was the addition of the glossiness in his eyes that concerned him a moment later.

Roy refrained from dragging a hand down his face. That was just great. They guy says he wants to help and _this_ is how he ends up? Fan-freaking-tastic.

 _Way to go, Dickie. You're doing a real bang up job of keeping your shit together like we talked about._

Roy held back a groan. He was pretty sure the other man was gonna break down if he didn't do something to distract him. He reached back into the kit and grabbed two more rolls of medical wrap.

"Here." He deliberately hit Dick on the head with one of the rolls. "Get his ankle too."

After handing the roll to the hopeless boy wonder and giving him a pointed look, he took the other roll and sat down next to Jason.

"Turn towards me a little and lift your arms up," Roy instructed and starting circling the wrap around Jason's ribcage. A quick inhale made him glance up. Jason's face was pulled into a tight grimace. He must have passed over a particularly tender area.

He upgraded bruised rib, to possible fractured rib and kept wrapping.

"How's the shoulder," he asked when he noticed Jason's right arm was shakily starting to fall down. "Is it too tight? I can rewrap it in a minute."

Jason shook his head. "It's fine. Jus' hard to hold up," he said quietly, barely managing not to slur.

Roy noted the lethargy which seemed to have taken over him. The sleep aid sounded like it was starting to kick in.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm almost done. You can just let your arm rest on my shoulder if you want."

A moment later a weight settled on the offered shoulder and he hurried to finish up. As soon as Dick was done as well, they rechecked everything for proper circulation, just in case.

Roy then looked back over Jason, seeing if there was anything else they could take care of. He leaned in with a small frown and gently brushed his thumb along the swollen area under Jason's eye, making him flinch.

"Hmm. Well there's not a lot we can do about this or the concussion." He pulled back. "And it's a little late for ice. Unless you think it'll help with the pain."

Jason shook his head, "I'm fine."

That was a lie. He wasn't fine. He just didn't want to seem needy and become more of a burden. They'd already spent all this time taking care of him. Besides. He could handle pain. The physical pain hurt, but it was familiar. He'd be okay on that front. It was the pain he had quarantined in heart prison earlier that scared him. It was like a menacing shadow, waiting to crush him from the inside out. It would have sent him over the edge if he weren't so tired right now. But he just couldn't think about it. There wasn't enough energy. So the shadow receded back into its cell for the time being.

"You're sure? I have plenty of ice packs, Jay?"

Jason nodded and Roy pursed his lips.

"Okay, well, I guess we're done for now then."

He shut the first aid kit closed with a snap and Dick held out his hand.

"I can take that."

"Thanks. Just set it on the counter. I'll restock it tomorrow." He turned back to Jason. "You hungry at all?"

"No. Just tired."

Roy nodded. "Okay. Let's get you to bed then. Can you stand?"

"I think so."

Roy looped his arm around Jason's back for support as he helped the younger man up.

Despite the assistance, stars invaded Jason's vision immediately and his ears started ringing. He took a shaky breath, trying to stave off a familiar sensation he'd associated with passing out.

The arm around his back tightened.

"You good?" Roy asked, voice tight with concern.

He was more than ready for Jason to go _down_ down a second time tonight. It had already almost happened again when Jason got up to shower. So it wasn't a surprise. He just wasn't sure if it was happening because of the concussion, the pain relievers, the fatigue, a combination, or something else entirely.

"Do you need to sit back down real quick?"

Jason felt tears forming on his lashes, frustrated by his weakness, and he whipped his head back and forth. "No," he rasped out.

"Do you need me to carry you?"

Jason quickly shook his head again and his chest tightened as he came closer to distress. He didn't want to be carried. He didn't want help. He didn't want them to be like this with him. It made him feel tiny and fragile and useless and he hated it.

He didn't want to feel anything.

He _just_ wanted to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow and have everything be normal.

"Jason?" Roy asked again, worried because Jason's face and ears were starting to turn red and his breathing was off. "You okay?"

Jason opened his mouth to respond, intent on lying, but something urged him to tell the truth instead. That no, he wasn't okay. But he couldn't make his voice work now. There was a heaviness that had settled itself in his throat, and it made breathing hard. He tried to swallow past it and keep it together so they wouldn't fret over him more, but that only seemed to make him feel worse. All it took was being asked a simple question and the dam he'd been carefully maintaining for the past hour or two reached capacity. Overflowing and sending a sudden deluge of emotion his way. His vision blurred and he covered his face with his hands.

"'M sorry," he mewled quietly, his voice cracking at the end as he deflated.

Within seconds, Roy gently pulled Jason to his chest and secured his arms around the shaking shoulders. Like an injured child, Jason curled into him, emitting small cries between quiet gasps. "It's okay." Roy started rubbing an arm up and down the younger man's spine. "Don't be sorry, Jaybird. It's okay to not be okay."

He tightened his hold when Jason's leg stop holding him up a second later. He did his best to control their fall back down to the couch, grunting when 175 pounds of nineteen year old landed partially on his lap. "Oof. Okay. This is fine. We're okay. I've got you."

Jason let his head fall to Roy's shoulder and the rest of his body felt heavy. He couldn't manage to summon the power needed to even hold himself up. Instead, he just let himself be held while tears streamed down his face and he quietly wept onto Roy's shirt.

Roy leaned back a little and dropped his arms into a more relaxed hold. "We'll just sit here for awhile. Okay?"

Dick, who had been in the kitchen when the break occurred, grabbed some napkins and headed over.

He sat down next to them and put his hand on Jason's uninjured knee, giving it a small squeeze.

They stayed like that for a while. Just sitting with Jason and letting him cry.

They let the meltdown run its course. That's all it was. Just a release from all the stress, anxiety, and general fatigue. Because he was exhausted. Mentally and physically Jason had nothing left to give and this was how his body decided to collect its due. Right now, all he needed was sleep. The bigger breakdown would come later when he had the strength for it.

But until then, he sat collapsed in Roy's lap and regressed to a simpler time, seeming more like a tired young toddler than a young adult.

It wasn't too long before the tears stopped. Whether he ran out of tears or ran out of stamina, they weren't sure. But his breathing evened out and the last signs of tension left his body as he was captured by a dead sleep.

END OF CHAPTER 4

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 **ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY BONUS SCENE**

(BECAUSE I ENDED THE CHAPTER, BUT THEN I STARTED TO DRAG IT OUT, AND IT GOT AWKWARDLY LONG SO YAaaaay…*walks away in shame*)

"Jay?" Roy whispered when all he could hear was soft breathing.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't get a response.

"Alrighty then," he yawned. "Guess that's that. Going to bed, take two." He sat forward and got a good hold on Jason before standing up with a grunt. "Dick," he said, kicking the slacker's foot.

Dick had let his eyes slip shut at some point and was nearly asleep. He breathed in sharply through his nose and blinked up at Roy. "Sorry." He rubbed at his eyes with his palms and pulled out his phone to check the time. "Oh, man. It's late. I should probably get going." He stood up and stretched.

Roy scoffed. "And what? Fall asleep on the drive back, crash, and let me blame myself for the rest of my life? Yeah. No. You look like crap. Just crash here."

Dick sent him a relieved smile. "Thanks, man. You have an extra blanket somewhere?"

"Yes. But I meant you can sleep in the bed, moron. That couch is a back destroying demon. Now hurry up. He's not exactly light."

Dick followed Roy to the bedroom and pulled the covers back so he could put Jason down.

Roy studied how much room Jason took up and nodded. "Well, it'll be close but, we'll definitely fit. Help me move him to the middle. I don't want your tentacle limbs wrapped around me."

"What? I do _not_ have tentacle limbs," Dick defended, but he still helped Roy slide Jason over.

"Okay. Well I'm just saying," Roy walked around to the other side of the bed and changed into a shirt that wasn't wet on the shoulder. Then he tossed a pair of shorts over to Dick. "You have a tendency to smother whoever is next to you." He climbed into his side of the bed and started turning off the lights in the living room via his phone.

"Hey. I can't help it!" Dick said as he changed from his jeans to the shorts and climbed in as well. "My mom was really huggy. I'm a product of my upbringing."

"Yeah, whatever. Just go to sleep, Koala-wing." Roy shut off the ceiling fan light and set his phone on top of his dresser. "And if you're gonna hug someone, hug him. But keep it on that side," he mock warned. "I better not wake up with one of your legs over here."

"No promises," Dick smiled. He scooted closer to Jason and snaked his arms protectively around him, taking care not to aggravate his injuries. It was gonna be a long road to recovery from this incident. But he was gonna do his best to be there for Jason every step of the way.

Nobody would ever be able to say he wasn't where he needed to be again.

"Night, Roy," he whispered to the other side of the bed.

"G'night," Roy echoed back. Then a moment later added, "I'm glad you came, Dick. I know he didn't really show it, but it meant a lot to him."

Dick closed his eyes with a soft hum before drifting off to join his brother.


	5. Ch5: Distraction

**A/N:** This is more of a brief interlude and I did not go back and edit so this was a straight through writing exercise to kinda help me find out what I wanted to do and get me back into writing this fic. Not as long as the other chapters (not that those have been long either lol). Focus is back to Bruce for this chapter and it kinda decided to write itself for me, so I apologize for the errors and if it was strange. On the plus side I've kinda got an idea of where I'm going now story wise. There are things I want to include and so my canon divergence shall now be taking a sharp right onto Self-Indulgent Avenue. Come with me, or don't. I'll be just as surprised as you when I update. I keep wanting to write fluff and cracky humor fics. Lol

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As soon as Dick had left the cave, Bruce had flopped down in the chair at the batcomputer. There was no need to bother putting the cowl back up. He wasn't going back out.

He turned to face the screens. Various windows were open on the desktop. Case files from a _double_ double homicide, possibly Two Face who turned up missing at Arkham last week. Maps detailing recent fires on the lower east side, possibly Firefly, but more likely a group of delinquents looking for an adrenaline high. An article about a missing panther sculpture from a local antique store…

He hovered the mouse over the little red "x" for that window. Reread the contents of the article. Nothing else had been stolen. Not even the pricier antiques. It was _her_ M.O. And the first time in three weeks that he'd seen any sign she was still in Gotham.

He closed the article and leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the headrest.

Bruce opened his eyes and stared up at the dark stalactite above. "Dammit…"

He pressed the palms of his gloved hands to his eyes and leaned forward again to rest his elbows on the console.

" _Dammit."_

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, he sat back up and blew out a fierce breath. He needed a distraction.

He refocused and quickly started typing, looking for more information regarding the double homicides. But when he pressed enter the screen read: ACCESS DENIED.

Frowning, he tried to open a different file.

ACCESS DENIED.

Every file he tried, he got the same dialogue box. But that was impossible. This was _his_ internal system. There was no reason for him to be denied access from his own files and none of the current cases were off-limits for Damian or Tim….

"DAMMIT!" Bruce slammed a fist down on the desktop.

 _Barbara._

She did this. She's the only one who could and the only one who would.

He stood up and kicked the chair across the room before slamming a button down on the left console. "Barbara, give me access to my files. Now."

A video feed opened on the right screen, showing Batgirl sitting in the back of the truck she had designed for Nightwing recently. She had her arms crossed but seemed comfortable enough in the chair and her mask was off. "Bruce."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "My files, Barbara. Fix them."

Barbara made a face and worked her jaw a moment before speaking. "I can't."

" _What. Did you just say?"_ Bruce ground out, feeling his blood pressure rise.

Barbara shrugged and flicked an invisible crumb off the console in front of her as she avoided eye contact. "You heard me."

"I swear to... " Bruce tore of into a growl and slammed a fist on the console again. "Barbara! What did you do to my files!"

Barbara's eyes flicked menacingly back up to the camera. "I locked them. I thought that was obvious, oh _great detective-san."_

"Unlock them."

"I told you. I _can't,"_ she said clearly.

"Dammit, Barbara! You know how important those files are! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Barbara scoffed and leaned forward. "What the hell was _I_ thinking?" She pulled her cowl on. "Better question, _Batman,_ what the hell were _you_ thinking?" She typed a few things on her end and a window popped up in the middle of the bat computer. "I didn't destroy your files, asshole. YOU have to unlock them. Just press play on that window I opened, watch it in its entirety, and you'll get access back." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I thought Dick told you to watch the footage?"

"I don't need to watch the footage," Bruce said, nostrils flaring.

"Oh? I don't know, Bruce. I was _pretty_ sure I heard Dick say 'need' when he confronted you earlier." Barbara cracked some of her knuckles on her left hand in clenching her fist. "And you do need to watch it."

"I'm not watching it."

"Not with that attitude." Barbara typed something again. "Here, I'll help you. _I'll_ push play. But you should probably go grab your chair. The content can be a little heavy."

Bruce didn't move for a few moments and he just stood there grinding his teeth together, thinking of a way to bypass Barbara's code. Given her expertise in the area, he probably wasn't going to have much luck coming up with a counter algorithm. Especially if he didn't have access to any of his systems aside from the video and his currently pulled up windows.

Finally he made eye contact with her and ground out, "No." Then he pressed a button and shut the communication down.

The remaining windows on his screen blipped out and only the center screen with the cowl feed was left standing as he walked away. He pulled the cowl back on and strode over to the Batmobile. He didn't need the files. He needed to go out.

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 **A/N:** So I want to be clear that Bruce has not cooled down quite yet from ANYTHING. He's stuck in his own selfish problems regarding Catwoman. I plan on bringing Tim back eventually for Bruce's story. And Bruce WILL watch that damn footage. He's a stubborn ass though and he's sure he can go back to his detective roots and start over. He don't need no bat computer to function. He will eventually need sleep though...Like, his coping mechanisms are shit.

On a sidenote, I honestly believe that Barbara is one of the only people who absolutely will not put up with Bruce's constant bull shit. She's been through too much too care what he says or thinks. She's always kinda done what she wanted regardless.


End file.
